The Heart of Camelot Words Challenge
by Wilma69
Summary: The Challenge was to write a drabble between 100-300 words, with a certain word given that had to be used in the story. These are all from Merlin's point of view.


_The Heart of Camelot Word Challenge…_

* * *

CATEGORY: Gen (Canon)

CHARACTERS: Merlin + All  
RATING: K, some might me K+ or even T  
SEASON: All seasons  
SYNOPSIS: These drabbles were made for the drabble challenge "Words" on the Merlin forum; The Heart of Camelot. The writer was given one word to use. The words are the titles, but are also used in the drabbles itself.

A Drabble is a fic between 100-300 words.

* * *

Haunting

I can feel it. Not just the heat of the licking flames, but the indescribable dread that renders my body helpless, damaging my nerves beyond recovery. No matter how desperately I try to channel my magic, to find a spell that might relinquish the flames or loosen the ropes holding me in place on the pyre, it is of no use. My system goes into shock; insides twisting with nausea as I realise that this time I am out of options.

The people gathered in the square have become an indistinct blur, their scattered conversations muffled by the deafening roar of the fire. These voices are familiar to me somehow, but it's too late to call out and beg for their assistance. Faces appear in my mind, beloved faces of the people I've sworn to protect at all costs. I can feel my mind screaming at them, 'How can you be my destiny if I die here, disintegrated into dust and soon forgotten?'

Unfamiliar faces arise to replace the features of my loved ones. They scream at me in terror and agony, and I know these are the phantoms of the men, woman and children who once had to undergo the same fate as myself. It never mattered whether they were guilty or not; Uther would condemn them for sorcery and lash them to a pyre just like this one to face an agonizing death. Their cries are vibrating through my mind, haunting my soul as my body prepares to endure the same terrible pain they must have suffered.

All I am able to do is gasp for breath as the deadly flames inch ever closer, unable to think of magic or escape strategies or anything beyond my own fear and those awful screams.

I want to, I need to, someone help me... please...

"Merlin! Wake up!"

I can see nothing in the darkness, but I feel a strong presence beside me radiating nothing but love. My eyes fill with tears.

Gaius...

* * *

Fascinate

Merlin couldn't help but stare when he first encountered the Lady Morgana. In the small village of Ealdor he'd met some pretty girls, but never the likes of the Kings Ward. This lady of the court was always met with fascinated gazes, and not just from the men living in the citadel. Men wanted to be with her, women wanted to be her, there was no denying this.

Her dark hair curling around porcelain skin, green eyes bright and clear seeing the world for what it really was. Not afraid to speak her opinion, always making sure that she would not be forgotten. The centre of attention, while compassion for others also clearly visible underneath her beauty.

Merlin had felt awkward at first, not entirely certain how to address her. A girl like her would never acknowledge a boy like him, not in the way that Merlin wanted to anyway. He didn't even dare speak to her in the beginning, his words were always stuck in a dry throat, his face; especially the ears, would break out in several colours of red as well. So, it had been for the best, really.

But as strange as it might seem, Morgana had become his unlikely friend. And now that he knew her much better and thought about the past, he wasn't even sure why he had been so shy and flustered. She was a friend, just like Gwen was. She had been there to help in defending Ealdor, and Merlin had been grateful and totally amazed by it. Maybe that was also where his fascination with her came from. There was something about her that he couldn't quite read. But maybe one day he would find out what it was, and they would become even better friends.

He sure hoped they could...

* * *

Wistful

Why did it have to be so cold, so bitterly utterly breathtakingly freezing? It was not fair to be out on a quest in the middle of Winter and in the middle of nowhere, not to mention the 'running out of food' part. Not that there was any way to cook the food, as there was no firewood. And the snow covered fields provided nothing that would burn, not even with the use of magic.

They may have succeeded in their quest, to get rid of a dangerous murderer that had been terrorising small villages, but they had lost their horses and most of their provisions. Even though the culprit was dead and they were on their way back to Camelot, life never seemed easy.

Merlin barely managed to follow Arthur and the knights through the knee high snow, and if he didn't know better, as Arthur did seem to have everything under control, he would have told them that they were lost.

Camelot and the warmth of the fireplace in Gaius' chambers almost beckoned to him. It was the only hopeful thought keeping him staggering forward instead of just giving in and fall down. Camelot, the fires, Gaius, even his food; a warm bowl of soup or stew, it was all that kept him going.

He could almost taste that stew, he thought wistfully, and his mouth would have watered if not for his teeth chattering with a rather frightening intensity. He may be dressed for Winter, but his clothes were soaked and it felt like the cold was seeping into his bones.

"Are we lost?" He couldn't help but ask.

Arthur turned around, his face a mixture of exasperation and humour, and Merlin wondered what he'd missed. He hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings for hours.

Gwaine grinned, slapping him on the shoulder. "What do you think, mate?"

And there it was, right over the hill they had been trudging up on. Camelot. Warmth, food... They were almost there. Not lost at all. They were almost home.

* * *

Imperious

The King sat on his throne, all high and mighty, a smug look on his face and a steely glint in his eyes. What made him the ruler of this land? His compassion certainly didn't, as Uther probably didn't know the meaning of the word? No, this imperious King ruled by fear.

His people, his knights, his servants and staff, everyone in the citadel and way beyond feared him and his wrath. Even his own family seemed to fear him at times, even though for different reasons. They did dare to question him, but at great risk.

All his son, Arthur needed was confirmation. All the Prince needed to hear was that he mattered, and that his father was proud of him. Uther would never admit to such things. Maybe he thought that any signs of affection would make him appear weak in the eyes of the people?

Merlin's gaze drifted from Uther to Arthur.

He knew Arthur well enough to know, to feel, that Uther's stubborn attitude towards his son did more harm than good. It made Arthur insecure at times, made him question his abilities. Where Uther would push his son away, Merlin had always been there to pick up the pieces.

He would tell the Prince that his father was proud of him, and behind that wall build around Uther, there was definitely something, a vulnerability that he could sense, but that rarely came out in the open.

It wasn't easy to sense though, as the fear he himself felt for Uther had made him tense and guarded while being around the King. But for Arthur's sake, he had tried to push aside his own fears, and do what was best for his friend.

And doing so he knew King Uther did care about his son, deeply.

* * *

Exquisite

The little girl looked up at him in total trust.

Somehow her voice had reached him while he'd been gathering herbs in the Darkling woods. The strange thing was that she was too young to be able to talk, yet she had projected his name in a way. He had clearly heard her call him Emrys.

When he had rushed into a clearing, the sun breaking through the trees, he had found her. Sitting there on a bed of grass and leafs, a small toy resembling a unicorn in one little fist. Red curly hair, and large emerald eyes that had taken in the sight of him, while he'd almost stumbled in surprise.

She had looked so tiny, but with so much intelligence in those eyes, having such an exquisite look, that it had taken Merlin's breath away. Their gaze met and she had startled to giggle, looking up at him.

Merlin fell to his knees, seeing the druid symbol clearly on her little wrist when she held her hand up reaching for him. A little druid girl alone in the forest, where was her mother? There had to be other druids around, as they would never leave anyone behind, especially a toddler.

"Where's your mum, little one?" Merlin sat down next to her, worry mingled with apprehension while he looked around the clearing.

The girl got hold of his shirt, letting out a delighted little squeal. The minute she touched the shirt, Merlin started to feel all warm inside, the worry sliding off him like a blanket would, his mind fuzzy but full of hope and joy.

"I see you have met Eirin," the soft voice of the druid woman walking into the clearing didn't startle him, at all. "She is special."

"How so?"

"She has the ability to look into people's souls and touch them." The druid woman smiled at him while she took the little girl into her arms, "she tells me you are Emrys, the saviour of our people."

"I, uhm..."

"It is an honour to meet you."

* * *

Surrender

They had been circling each other for the last five minutes or so. The Prince and the warlock, both holding a blunt wooden stick in their hands, both intent on winning this game.

If Arthur would tell him one more time that he didn't stand a chance, Merlin would show him some powerful magic and be done with it. Of course he couldn't, but the idea had some merit. Magic should not be used for games and pranks, but that didn't mean Merlin would let Arthur win this time. A little magic to teach the prat a lesson, nothing more. Gaius would understand.

He felt his magic flow into the stick he was holding, almost like it was an extension to his own arm. And when he parried Arthur's stick that was aimed at his shoulder, the Prince suddenly found himself flat on his back by the sheer power of the blow. Like he'd hit a wall at full speed.

"Will you surrender, my Lord?" Merlin's pushed his stick at Arthur's chest, feeling the rush of adrenaline racing through his body, and he couldn't stop a wide grin from spreading on his face. "Will you?"

This whole scene suddenly felt very familiar, and it put him off balance, while he quickly lost his concentration. Arthur of course would always grasp the slightest opportunity to get the upper hand, and surely, this time the Prince didn't fail to do exactly what Merlin was trying to avoid.

He wrapped his legs around Merlin's, and before the warlock could even blink he fell down flat on his face in the mud, Arthur letting out a triumphant bark of laughter.

So much for teaching Arthur a well needed lesson using magic. He should have known better...

* * *

Passionate

Merlin let out a very deep sigh while glaring up in defiance at the huge dragon sitting on his rock, purged like a bird on a nest. At least he hoped it would be a defiant look, because he didn't want to show any traces of fear to the magical creature in front of him.

Not that he felt any fear at this moment. All he felt was annoyed, grumpy, exhausted, and he was sick and tired of people telling him what to do. Ordering him around like some servant. Well, of course technically he 'was' a servant, but that didn't mean he was anyone's slave.

Arthur had been totally unreasonable this morning, wanting him to not only serve him breakfast, but to actually feed him. To not only lay out his clothes, but to actually dress him. And when Merlin had walked out on him, he had threatened to throw him out of Camelot.

"How can I feel passionate about protecting someone who's such an arrogant ass."

"You are two sides of the same coin, your destiny is intertwined with Arthur's."

"Yes, I've heard you say that a million times before, and blah blah blah..."

"Merlin."

"I'm sorry, I'm just so fed up with him, with everything, with you even."

He hadn't meant to say it, and the moment it left his mouth he bit his lip, peering up at the dragon, who's eyes were getting the size of slits. There was total silence for a second, and then the creature started to laugh, loud enough that the air movement of it almost blew Merlin off his feet.

"You certainly have humour, young warlock."

"It wasn't supposed to be funny."

"I know," The dragon was still having a huge smile on his snout. "You cannot change your destiny Merlin, you should know that by now."

"Thanks."

* * *

Forlorn

Finding, healing and talking to Gwen in the forest had struck a nerve. Searching for her, while he wasn't so certain she was even still alive had been one of the hardest things to do, ever. Gwen was his friend, and he missed her dearly. He was bound to Arthur, but he cared just as deeply about her, and didn't want to see her hurt. Merlin already felt he'd let her down.

Relief had washed over him when he had found her still alive, but talking to her while she hadn't want to come with him back to Camelot had made him feel so terrible that he'd actually felt sick. She had looked so forlorn, so empty even, like the hope had been sucked out or her in a way.

He had only seen a tiny flicker of light and of strong perseverance for her own situation. Gwen was selfless, never thinking of her own problems or pain, always there for others, even now. She was so strong that Merlin felt nothing but awe for her. He could never be that strong himself.

He would find a way to reunite her with Arthur, if it's the last thing he did. They were meant for each other. So when he had come back to her after his conversation with Arthur that night, where the King had thanked him, he'd brought her food, clothes and had told her to go see his mother in Ealdor.

If destiny wanted it, Arthur would find her there one day. And Merlin had made sure to tell her that Arthur still loved her, no matter what. Gwen might have felt lonely and lost, but there was still hope. Lots of it...

* * *

Delicate

"Don't crush the flower."

"I am not."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm uhm..." Merlin suddenly noticed the little blue flower in his hand, and it did appear a little withered, so he send Gaius his best apologetic look, raising his brows in innocence while sucking in his lower lip.

Gaius had asked him to help out with a newly arrived batch of herbs. Well, Gaius hadn't actually asked, he more or less told Merlin he was going to assist him. Merlin's interests were definitely not in that area, and he found it totally boring. He just didn't have the patience for it. Even studying healing spells his patience was always a problem, and to learn what Gaius knew about healing with only the conventional methods, made Merlin want to run and hide.

Gaius had told him at least a million times that it was an important thing to master. That it would come in handy. Merlin became more aware of it remembering that he had not been able to heal Arthur when he was mortally wounded in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. He actually understood very clearly where Gaius was coming from, but it still didn't mean he was an eager student when it came to the art of healing.

"It's delicate," Gaius plucked the object of conversation from his fingers. "You have to treat it with care."

"Right."

"You're not taking this seriously enough."

"I am, I really am, it's just that..."

Before he could answer, the door crashed open and the face of a certain irritated prince appeared.

"_Merlin!"_

Gaius send Arthur his best stern look, but the prat didn't seem to see it, his focus on Merlin and Merlin alone. "What the hell have you been up to?"

Merlin knew Gaius disapproved, but well, he was used to Arthur's insolence by now. Sending the man his best ever smile, the one he knew would infuriate Arthur even more, he coughed. "It's a delicate situation, Sire."

Next to him, Gaius let out a amused snort.

* * *

Gloomy

Gwaine would probably never change. If he wasn't training with the knights, he was at the tavern getting drunk or chasing after the ladies. He was that happy go lucky guy that always got himself into trouble and loving it. He even searched for it, or was it that trouble just always found him no matter what?

Merlin didn't understand this way of living, didn't understand the fascination with ale or mead. It didn't taste that great after all. Or chasing after women for the fun of it, not taking it seriously. Merlin would always take things like that seriously. He had been in love one time, and it had broken his heart. He wondered if Gwaine had ever been in love. He wasn't so sure about it.

Of course Merlin understood the; 'getting into trouble' part, as the warlock himself seemed to attract it wherever he went. Paired up with Gwaine the other knights thought they were a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe they were right?

But today Gwaine seemed gloomy, and Gwaine was a lot of things but gloomy wasn't one of those. The knight was one of the most optimistic men he knew, always in for a joke, but also serious when it came to helping out his friends or fight for what was right.

When Merlin had come into the tavern in search of his friend, the man had been sitting alone at a table in the corner looking like something horrible had happened.

"Gwaine?" Merlin quietly inquired taking a seat next to the man in question, "what's wrong?"

"Merlin, it's awful, I can't..."

"Tell me."

"There's nothing to drink."

"What?"

"The tavern has dried up."

"But how..."

"The last shipment coming in from Mercia was stolen by bandits." Gwaine grabbed Merlin's shoulder. "We will go after them and get it back."

"We? " Merlin swallowed hard, "do you think that's wise?"

"A tavern with no ale? Merlin, be serious," Gwaine jumped up from his chair pulling Merlin with him. "It's a disaster waiting to happen."

* * *

Macabre

She is staring into nothingness, her faded eyes don't see a thing, her face more pale than ever, her body is cold and bend in an awkward position, and there's the buzzing of a thousand flies in the air above her. The air is putrid with the stench of blood and death. But I can't look away.

I stand there and stare at her, a mixture of sadness and macabre fascination creeping up into my tired bones. Deep unbridled grief captures my senses, the thought of having lost it all, of having failed my friends, it numbs me while I keep gazing at her dead body as if it's all a dream. I can't avert my eyes, it's the punishment for my failure.

Morgana's face is reflecting all my guilt, my last words to her vibrating inside of me. My knees are vibrating with that same intensity while I keep my eyes on her. I should have done things differently a long time ago, I know that now. Hindsight is a curse though, as it wasn't meant to be.

I have no idea how long I've been standing here, time is of no relevance when you have forever; when you are forever. The buzzing of the flies is intensifying, and something wet on my cheeks makes me reach for my face.

I am crying. Not only for having lost Arthur, but also for Morgana, I know. I can feel it, and it's fine. I need to lay her body to rest in the magic filled Earth beneath her, so her soul will be free at last. I owe it to her...

* * *

Penetrate

"Don't move..."

I can feel the rough texture of fabric running through my fingers, my fingertips lightly brushing cool skin beneath, holding the red textile up and away from it. I bite my lower lip and hold my breath, not willing to move but with the intention of doing so anyway. There really isn't another option.

Arthur is squirming, his body tense in silent anticipation it seems. I better take this slow, step by step, one movement of my hand at a time, up and down. If Gwen can do it so perfectly, why can't I?

I let out a slow breath of air, sweat appearing on my face, but I can't wipe it off right now. This task takes all of my concentration and more. I can do it, I know I can.

"_Merlin, you idiot!"_

Arthur suddenly yells out, and without a warning he cuffs me around the head, causing a startled yelp emitting from my mouth. "You just pricked me."

I quickly pull away the sewing needle, examining the damage. I can only see a pinpoint of blood, not even a drop on the prince's shoulder, beneath the small tear in his favourite shirt that I'm trying to mend. I should have asked him to take it off in the first place. Him fidgeting around like that, no wonder the needle penetrated his skin.

Startled I step back, pulling away the needle and thread, forgetting that the thread is still attached to Arthur's shirt. It pulls taut, I can hear a tearing sound and to my total shock the small tear that was supposed to be mended rips open far enough so I can see Arthur's bare back.

Oh...

"Merlin, what?"

Taking two more steps away from Arthur, I hastily drop the needle and thread and turn towards the door not waiting for a response, not daring to look back while I flee into the hallway...

"_MERLIN!"_

* * *

Remorse

"What happened to the boy who came into my chamber just a few years ago."

"He grew up... And he learned the meaning of duty."

Gazing from the unconscious body of Mordred on the cot at Gaius' disapproving features, Merlin swallowed hard and reverted his eyes to the floor. A sudden wave of nausea crawled up into his stomach and throat, the words just spoken vibrating through his mind.

It felt wrong, it all felt wrong. He was so sure of himself though. If Mordred lived, Arthur would die, and how could he save the life of a man who was destined to kill his King? His best friend, his destiny?

No, he shouldn't doubt himself, this was the only course of action he could take. The only way to prevent the future from happening, so why shouldn't he grab it with both hands and hold on?

Merlin slowly lifted his head to observe the young man on the cot again. Looking so young and innocent. So much like he himself was when he first arrived at the gates of Camelot. The nausea inside of him grew. A pang of conscience or even remorse climbing to the surface.

He used to be so naive, so trusting in people, but no more. He couldn't afford it. But that didn't mean he didn't regret it, that he didn't feel shame pushing Mordred away like he did, while the other man was only seeking his approval after all.

In the end the only person judging him for his actions would be him. Failure and guilt had always been a part of Merlin's life, and all he could do was live with it. There was no other choice...

Mordred had to die.

* * *

Devotion

"Merlin?"

The familiar voice came from somewhere near his right ear, a steady calm voice, very soft at first but becoming more clear by the minute while Merlin's mind, filled with clouds, seemed to wake up. Wake up to the sensation of a terrible pain in his head, throbbing, piercing, all at the same time. He heard himself gasp, while his body ached up from the ground in response to the hand that landed on his chest.

"Shhh, Merlin, stay down, you're hurt."

Hurt? How come he was hurt? He couldn't remember getting hurt. His fuzzy mind tried to recall what had happened, but all he could come up with was riding on his horse through the Darkling woods, following Arthur and the knights. And was that Lancelot speaking to him?

"Lancelot?" He could hear his voice croak. "Wha... what happened?"

"Bandits, they ambushed us and you got knocked over the head and fell off your horse."

No, Merlin definitely couldn't remember that part. His head was feeling like a horse was galloping through it though, so it did make sense. Strange that he hadn't felt these bandits approaching, as his magic would normally warn him of such occurrences.

Fear gripped his heart. While being unconscious he wouldn't have been able to help the others, to use his magic to protect Arthur and the knights. What if...

"Is everyone all right?"

"Yes, Arthur and the others are chasing what's left of the bandit group now, I volunteered to stay behind and look after you."

Lancelot looked down on him, a mixture of worry and hope in his eyes, and Merlin wondered why the knight showed so much devotion, not just to Camelot, but to him.

"You are my friend, Merlin," It was like Lancelot could read his mind, as the steady hand on his chest grabbed hold of his shoulder. "I want you to be all right."

Merlin's hand landed on Lancelot's arm. A gesture to let the knight know that he was going to be fine, and that he was proud to have a friend like Lancelot...

* * *

Magnetic

There was something about her. The way she moved, her smile, dark eyes lightening up every time Merlin's eyes met hers. Maybe it was his imagination, the sunlight streaming into the great hall of Camelot playing tricks on him? But what he did know was that she captured his eyes with a steady unembarrassed gaze every time he looked her way.

Merlin tried to understand why a Princess such as her would even be slightly interested in a servant like him. Although Mithian was not your normal Princess in a way. She was fun to be around, she was feisty, warm, uncomplicated and could keep up with the noblemen out hunting without a problem.

Merlin admired her very much. Most of the noble ladies of the court treated him like he was dirt under the soles of their shoes. Or maybe even worse than that. But Mithian had never done these things, she had always treated him like ranking didn't matter. And Merlin was drawn to her, like there existed a magnetic pull between them.

After a council meeting her father King Rhodor, and the Princess had been invited to, they all made their way into the corridor. Merlin on Arthur's heels, when he noticed that Mithian was lingering a bit.

She smiled at him when he noticed her and winked. This was of course very inappropriate behaviour for a Princess, so he quickly focused on Arthur and Rhodor. But the two Kings were busily talking about matters of state walking on ahead, not paying them any attention.

Before he came to a halt next to Mithian, she had already stepped forward grabbing his arm, pulling him into one of the alcoves, and with a blush on her face she tiptoed and placed a solid kiss on his cheek.

Before he could return the favour she was already gone, dashing into the corridor after her father, leaving him standing there, all flustered, a happy grin on his face.

Definitely magnetic he concluded...

* * *

Luminous

The Lake of Avalon seemed alive, a breathing pulsing force making ripples on the surface of the deep clear water. An astonishing warm light mixed with fog swirled above the ripples, giving the whole lake a luminous glow in the darkness of the night.

Merlin peered out over the water, his longing intense but soothing at the same time. It calmed his thoughts and soul, and made his inner core of magic feel stronger, magnifying everything.

He was standing there on the shore, swaying a little but keeping a steady gaze on the water that beckoned him, called his name in soft sweet whispers.

He closed his eyes letting the voice carry him to a place where it was warm and peaceful and good. Where he would never be able to go in a physical sense, but where his soul could visit once in a while, to heal and scare away the burden of destiny and its demons.

"Merlin, Merlin..."

Freya's voice reached out and embraced him, a whisper of air touching his cheeks, his lips. All her love was poured into this touch, and it took Merlin's breath away.

"Freya..."

* * *

Mystical

Merlin took his mother's small hand in his own, and could feel her firm trusting grip. He knew she had faith in him, not matter what had happened in the past, no matter what the future would be.

The warlock noticed with a pang of regret that it took all her strength to climb into the entrance of this well hidden cave, but she had always been a strong woman, so he knew for certain she was going to make it.

The Crystal Cave was as mystical as ever. It breathed a welcome to both him and his important guest. Curious almost, touching the most inner core of his soul, laying everything bare. But Merlin had no fear, as this was the home of magic and would always be a place to be at peace.

Lowering his mother to the ground, she let out an amazed gasp. "Merlin, this is beautiful."

He fell to his knees, pulled off his jacket putting it under her head, and took her hand in his again. They took in the magical power of the cave in silence, Merlin's focus never leaving her eyes.

His mother's eyes suddenly lightened up as she was gazing over his shoulder into the distance. "Balinor, is that really you?"

"Yes my dear Hunith, are you ready to join me?"

"With all my heart," she whispered, gazing up at Merlin for what was no doubt the last time, a kind smile playing on her lips. The tired creases on her worn face smoothing into relaxation, a burden falling off her shoulders as she reached out one hand to touch his face. "I will miss you my son."

"I will miss you too, I love you." Merlin proudly smiled back at her, even though the pain of loss already made his eyes burn, his throat thick with emotion. "I will always be here, mother."

"Such a good boy..."

And Hunith closed her eyes for the very last time, going to the place where he couldn't follow...

* * *

Crestfallen

"No, Merlin, that isn't fair." Will stamped his foot on the muddy shore, a scowl on his face, "you're always using your magic, and I can't compete with that... I don't want to."

Merlin's friend dropped the stick he'd been holding and stormed away, their shoulders brushing against each other as he ran off. A clear sign that Will truly had had enough. But had enough of what exactly?

"But I wasn't, Will..." Merlin knew it was futile to try and get his friend to listen to him. If Will thought he had actually used his magic this time, than he was wrong. He really hadn't. He'd just been lucky, that's all.

His mother had had a stern talk with him only a couple of days ago when an oak tree had almost flattened old man Simmons. And yes, in that particular event it had been Merlin's magic at work. It had been an accident, he'd been trying to pull some acorns from its branches with magic, but he'd underestimated the force of what felt like a small pull in his mind.

Hunith had been really upset, telling him that his magic shouldn't be used for fun. That it was a serious matter, even though Merlin didn't really understand what the purpose of his magic was in the first place if he couldn't use it out in the open.

Will finding out had almost given his mum a heart attack, but his best friend had been really easy going about it, swearing that he would keep Merlin's secret, at least setting Merlin's mind at ease, although his mum was still sceptical.

So, he was more careful now. And no, he hadn't used his powers to win in this stick fight with Will, it had all been his own skill and luck. He wasn't a fighter, but he was quick on his feet nonetheless.

Dropping his own stick in the mud, a crestfallen and disappointed look on his face, Merlin turned and followed Will back home. Hoping his friend would believe him in the end.

* * *

Diabolic

Merlin let out a strangled gasp, his back acing off the cold stone ground, his hands tied behind his back pulled painfully together, coarse rope biting into his wrists.

The face of his torturer was hanging above him, a dark diabolic look in his wild eyes. At least Merlin could imagine it so, because before he shut his eyes to control the flow of pain, the rogue druid gazing down on him had definitely looked insane.

Merlin couldn't remember how he'd ended up in this dark moist cave at the mercy of a madman. Last thing he remembered was lying in his own bed, waking up by the sudden slamming of a door, a menacing shadow looming over him. Definitely not Gaius.

After that, no idea. All he knew was that the man who took him called himself a druid. He certainly had magic, pouring out of him in dark swirling wisps of smoke. He'd forced him to drink a potion that instantly pushed back his magic, before the man had started raving about that Merlin shouldn't be in Camelot, that he was too valuable and should be educated the right way. By him.

Of course he hadn't complied, of course he had to open his big mouth insulting the man. And of course the man thought he should be taught a lesson in obedience. Great. His eyes shut tight he swore he wouldn't give this man what he was after, even if he would beat him into unconsciousness.

Pushing away his fear he waited, his body tensing up for the next blow to his stomach. But it never came. Instead there was the sound of muffling feet, a loud groan and someone falling. What the hell was going on?

"Merlin?" A familiar voice reached his ears, a strong but compassionate hand on his shoulder.

"Arthur..."

For the first time in hours he dared to open his eyes, everything still a little hazy, but the creepy dark eyes had been replaced by concerned blue ones.

And Merlin knew for sure... Everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

Ethereal

This spell was all he had wanted to master for a very long time. Merlin couldn't remember how long, but it felt like an eternity. He would practice it every day, but nothing ever happened. Well, that wasn't actually true because during the past two weeks he'd felt a tingling sensation in his head while performing the ceremony that went along with it.

He would sit on his knees in the exact centre of the Isle of the Blessed. Or what was left of it after so many years. The magic still felt immensely strong in this place. There was something to grab on to, his magic vibrating with the intensity of a thunderstorm.

He closed his eyes, ignored the rain pouring down, concentrated and uttered the spell.

"Ic I oferferede déaþdenu." [1]

When Merlin slowly opened his eyes this time, he could feel the difference. The rain had stopped, and the world around him seemed to stand still. Like he'd frozen time.

Holding his breath he could sense him before he saw him. A man with blonde hair and blue eyes a few paces to his right, a wisp of fog obscuring his legs, bright light enveloping his face like he was some ethereal being. There was a huge smile playing on the his lips.

"Took you long enough." The man stated.

Arthur... He did it. The spell had worked.

Relief, thankfulness, intense joy made itself master over Merlin's body and soul. It was hard to even try and describe how he actually felt, as everything was a jumbled mess of feelings. His magic dancing inside of him making him giddy while he jumped up on his feet.

"You try and find a way around immortality..."

Arthur let out a snort, but his eyes softened while he breached the gap between them and gave Merlin a fierce hug. "I had faith in you, even though you're still an idiot."

"I missed you to, Arthur."

[1] Translates: Transport me to the valley of the death...


End file.
